Process
by shingekinorivaille
Summary: Late night conversations may not help them process their deaths, but it can lead to new friendships.


**Process**

* * *

He tugs the long jacket adorned with the Wings of Freedom off, draping it over his chair. He lets out a heavy sigh, catching a glance of himself in the mirror. He looks beyond exhausted; heavy bags sit beneath his eyes, his frame almost looks smaller, as if he hasn't been eating enough. Things keep getting more complicated, more _convoluted_, and he can't keep up.

A light knock on his door pulls him out of his thoughts. "Come in," he says, sitting down the wrong way on his chair, letting his arms rest atop his folded jacket.

Hitch steps into the room, her footsteps softer than usual. "Hi, Jean," she says, letting the door shut behind herself.

"Hitch," he says, "Hi." He couldn't quite piece together why she was here. It's not that it's a problem, but they don't really know each other all that well.

"Sorry to come so late," she says, her eyes flickering to the window, where the outside world was completely dark as clouds obscured the moon's soft glow.

"It's fine. What's up?" he asks, watching as she crosses the room to seat herself on his bed.

"I have a question for you."

When she doesn't continue, he raises his eyebrows. "Which is…?"

"Sorry," she says again, leaning back against the wall, the bed squeaking ever so slightly as she shifts her weight. "It's kind of hard to ask, I guess." She pauses and stares out the window. "I've heard the stories."

"The stories?" Jean questions, "Of what?"

"You. In Trost. That day."

"Oh."

"I… that day is the reason you're in the Scouting Legion, isn't it?"

He nods.

"Because your best friend died."

"Was murdered," Jean corrects.

"Right. Does it… I mean, how do you handle it?"

Everything clicks. She's asking how to get over the fact that her best friend is dead. Jean feels a pang in his chest. His answer isn't going to be much help. "You don't," he replies.

Hitch sighs, her eyes dropping to watch her fingers twiddle. "I mean, obviously. I guess that's not what I meant to ask. How can I…" she shifts uncomfortably under his gaze, "how can I distract myself from it? I feel like all I've been doing is guarding Annie in her crystal, and she's not exactly a conversationalist, especially inside of that thing."

"We were thrown into the war headfirst right after Marco died," Jean says, "so I never had much of a chance to focus on it. The most I even processed it was deciding to join the Scouting Legion, and life has been moving non-stop since then."

Hitch nods in understanding. "Alright." She stands, running her hands down the front of her jacket to remove any wrinkles. "Maybe I'll talk to Annie enough to annoy her out of the crystal as a pastime." She heads towards the door, "Sorry to bother you."

"You didn't bother me," Jean says, causing Hitch to stop.

She turns to face him again. "You know, you're a lot nicer than you act out there," she says, her thumb motioning towards the door.

"What can I say, it's my job."

"To be a dick?" she asks, eyebrows raised.

He laughs, "It's technically not in the job description, but I take pride in my asshole personality, I'll have you know."

She smiles and rolls her eyes, "Okay, that made me feel a little better. Guess I need more friends, is all. Most of the others in the Military Police are assholes. Real assholes, not pretend ones like you. They're not easy to get along with."  
"They sound stuffy," he rests his chin on his palm, "Glad I didn't join them."

"Don't rub it in."

"Having second thoughts?" he asks. His tone is playful, but something about him comes off as serious.

"No. I mean, yes, but I think I would join the Wall Garrison over the Scouting Legion after Marlow..."

"That's fair," Jean says. "For what it's worth, I think you would be great at kicking ass on the battlefield. Titan and human."

"Thanks, your vote of confidence is definitely going to make me switch." She smiles at him. "I know you're busy, but if you ever have some free time, I'm pretty much never busy."

"Maybe I'll take you up on that sometime," he replies as she steps through the door.

"Goodnight, Jean."

"Goodnight, Hitch."

The door closes with a soft click.


End file.
